


Exposure Therapy

by dilfhakoda



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), Awkward Conversations, Awkward Sexual Situations, Childhood Trauma, Coming of Age, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Healing, Horny Teenagers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, KIND OF.. you'll see, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Underage Drinking, Underage Substance Use, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, join me as i try to figure out how to write a multichap fic with lots of plot, zuko mai ty lee and june are in a band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dilfhakoda/pseuds/dilfhakoda
Summary: Exposure therapy's a bitch, but it gets the job done. (Zuko and Katara are traumatized, not-quite-childhood-friends reuniting in high school.)
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), background Sokka/Suki
Comments: 20
Kudos: 128





	1. the devil's lettuce (i)

**Author's Note:**

> warning: throughout this fic there will be discussions of the past rape and murder of a mother figure, but nothing graphic. sexual harassment, mental illness, and past abuse (ozai) are also discussed
> 
> 12/25/2020: I've made an edit to the texting segments and will update the rest of the fic. Make sure you have the creator's style on to see the text bubbles!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara, newly reunited with Zuko, attends his band's performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: underage drug use

Katara should’ve guessed that Zuko was in a rock band, based simply off of his fashion sense. The guy had a nose ring and wore shredded tank tops in winter—it wouldn’t be a huge mental leap to conclude he also owned an electric guitar, most likely decorated with flames and niche stickers.

She is still getting to know the new Zuko, and it’s an experience to say the least… Not that she remembers the old Zuko too well in the first place, however.

“So, are you asking me to be your groupie, or just inviting me to the gig?” She teases.

His expression is either mildly flustered or irritated, and she can’t tell which; but Katara intends to learn.

“Just inviting you, obviously!” Zuko huffs.

She likes causing a reaction in him, Katara decides. “When is it?” 

“This Saturday at 10.” He responds cooly, rolling his bag onto his shoulder. “We’ll be performing at Omashu.” 

“‘We?’” She had been under the assumption he was a solo artist. Then, after a split second, she adds, “Isn’t Omashu a bar?”

Zuko doesn’t look phased at her confusion. “Yeah, ‘we.’ I’m in a band: Ember Island. And, yes, Omashu’s a bar, but we’re allowed in ‘cause we’re playing there.” Had it been any other guy speaking, she would assume they were subtly bragging; but not Zuko. Zuko was unusually humble. 

Katara is too curious to decline his offer. And, if she’s being honest with herself, really wants to see what Zuko looks like when he’s rocking out on stage.

* * *

It’s Saturday, 9:46 P.M, and she’s waiting outside the bar, gathering the courage to go inside. 

He'd told her earlier to "come around the back." It's innocuous, but even so bumps raise on Katara’s skin, and she can’t help but feel disconcerted. A scenario plays through her mind: hands reaching out for her from the shadows, ripping her clothes off, and suddenly the familiar image of her mother’s bloody body on the kitchen floor appears—

 _Stop. It’s just Zuko. You know he’s not like that_. 

On the other hand, all men are capable of evil, and she only reunited with Zuko a little over a month ago. 

_Better safe than sorry_.

Katara shields her hand in her purse, clutching her trusted pepper spray, and walks around the side of the bar. With every step she takes, her heart beats faster. _Calm down, calm down, calm down_.

The alley comes into view, and she realizes that the back door to Omashu is slung open. Zuko’s lounging against it, waiting for her with a smirk plastered on his face.

“Early bird catches the worm, huh?” The bumps on her skin diminish, and her heart returns to it’s normal rate. 

“I need to be prepared.” She replies, a hint of mirth in her tone; she’s gotten good at recovering quickly, with how often this sort of thing happens. Zuko nods his head in agreement, and steps aside to grant her access. Katara slithers past him and into the green room, with Zuko trailing along right after her.

The green room isn’t really green—It’s a musty brown, rather, and it’s certainly not in good shape. The wallpaper is crumbling off in flakes, revealing the white plaster beneath it. There are barely any decorations, half of the lights are out, and the two couches are covered in stains. Some of which look suspiciously… ribald, though Katara chooses to ignore that specific detail.

Instead, she focuses her attention on the two girls sitting there: One of them has her black hair pulled into two buns, and is absent-mindedly twirling a drum stick between her fingers. The other is a brunette with a ponytail, and is too preoccupied draining the contents of her water bottle to acknowledge Katara’s entrance.

“This is Ty Lee, our vocalist,” Zuko introduces, gesturing to the brunette. Ty Lee stops drinking to smile and wave at Katara. 

“Hi! You must be Katara! Zuko told us all about you!” Ty Lee is much more hyper than Katara expected.

“Is that a good or bad thing?” Katara laughs, eyeing Zuko mischievously. He just crosses his arms and looks away from her.

“It’s good! Your aura is definitely reflecting what he said...”

 _My what?_ Katara wants to ask, but she refrains from doing so.

“...And oh my gosh, I’m so sorry for being rude, but I need to prepare my vocal chords.” Ty Lee brings both of her hands up to her throat to massage the sides. Katara blinks at the abruptness of the statement, but she isn’t offended by any means. 

“Oh, that’s fine.”

“Anyway,” Zuko coughs, and points a thumb towards the other girl, “that’s Mai, our drummer.” 

Mai doesn’t look over. “Geez, you’re talking about us like we’re on America’s Got Talent. Calm the hell down, Zuko.” 

She speaks completely deadpan, and while Katara _does_ find it funny—especially because it made Zuko blush—she doesn’t know if it would be a good idea to laugh. Mai seems like a very prickly person and Katara doesn’t want to get off on the wrong foot. So, she bites down on her bottom lip to hide her smile. 

Zuko speaks immediately to prevent the awkward silence he was anticipating. “So, yeah. We’ll be on in about 20 minutes… I need to tune my guitar and talk to June, but I’ll be right back. There’s some water and pizza if you want it.” 

Katara nods. “Thanks.”

“Well, thank you for coming.” 

He crosses the room to grab his guitar, and oh—Katara was totally right about her prediction. Zuko’s guitar is black with flames and cryptid-themed stickers on it. She makes a mental note to ask him about those later.

Zuko gives her a half-smile and leaves the room, leaving Katara to embrace the silence, with only the thrum of the fan to comfort her. 

“So… Who’s June?” Katara asks, to whichever girl is willing to answer. Ty Lee throws a playful smirk at Mai, and then looks back to Katara.

“She’s our bassist, but also kinda our manager, I guess. Not like, a professional one, but since we’re local she hooks us up with gigs.” 

“Oh, cool.” Katara has no idea how any of that works, really.

“And she’s hot.” Ty Lee adds, grinning. 

Katara and Mai snort in unison.

* * *

The stage is small, but infinitely better than the greenroom. Besides a few scuff marks, it is clean and casual, and Katara can definitely see the appeal of going to a small show like this. Plus, the lights actually work, and they’re doing wonders for Ember Island, illuminating and complementing their outfits with an array of sunset colors. 

Katara wasn’t sure how to feel about the sensation in her lower half upon seeing Zuko on stage, brandishing his guitar like some kind of Mick Jagger. On one hand, she was disappointed in herself for being so easily swayed by her brother’s childhood friend in a punk rock setting, and on the other, he was just objectively hot and there was nothing she could do about it. Might as well admire how he looks with those leather pants and shiny hair, right?

At the front of the stage is Ty Lee, and next to Zuko is Mai. Mai looks just as bored as earlier, but Ty Lee is on the opposite side of the spectrum. She’s squirming in a way that suggests she’s barely containing her excitement, and it makes Katara smile. She can’t tell how Zuko’s feeling, though, because he is—once again—impossible to read.

Katara also sees who she can only presume is June. Ty Lee was right—she is hot. She looks like she’s a few years older than them, in college maybe. Her bass has a no-doubt self-made _Ember Island_ sticker on it, and the design is beautiful. Katara makes another mental note to look into it further.

After the band finishes setting up, Zuko shoots Katara a tiny smile and waves. Katara smiles back, her “ _good luck_ ” lost under the buzz of the amp, but she suspects Zuko got the message anyway.

* * *

They were _really_ good—surprisingly so. It’s not often a high school band is as put together and professional as this. They’ve been playing covers, and the patrons of the bar seem to be appreciating it as much as Katara, though they aren’t as invested. Katara even takes a few videos, and finds herself subconsciously focusing on Zuko.

A few times between songs, he’s made eye contact with her, a glimmer of amusement or perhaps pride in his eyes. Katara’s torn between wanting to laugh at his self-confidence and staring back just as intensely. He never keeps eye contact with her for too long, however, and ends up looking elsewhere with a bashful look on his face.

Zuko is a bit of an enigma, Katara decides. He acted assured at some times, and completely insecure at others. He dresses in a mix of grunge and punk but he acts like neither. Well, he did tend to brood, and sometimes he lost his temper with teachers and classmates, but he still didn’t fit the stereotype of either group. 

She can’t remember how he was when they were children very well. Katara can visualize his long ponytail, and how she would sometimes pull on it to annoy him; she remembers that he was extroverted, and had more outbursts than he did now. Zuko was more spoiled, less modest, and felt like he was entitled to everything. Sokka was always getting into contests with him—though Sokka did that with everyone, Zuko used to take it very personally. Katara always felt excluded from their games, as Zuko was Sokka’s friend and not hers, and she was labeled as a gross girl.

Oh, how times have changed.

 _Speaking of Sokka_ , Katara thinks, feeling her phone vibrate. She fishes it out of her pocket and looks down at the screen.

Sokka   
  
??? where r u?   
  
i already told you, i’m at toph’s house    
  


Katara doesn’t want to lie, but Sokka wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to find out she was currently attending Zuko’s performance at a bar. Sokka told her he didn’t hold a grudge against Zuko for staying out of touch all these years, or even refusing to reconnect, but Katara suspected that was a lie. It was slightly irrational to blame him for his family relocating when he was 8, since it wasn’t his fault, but Sokka was more melancholy about that than anything else. But, how Zuko responded when Sokka tried to say hello at the beginning of the year? That wasn’t a great interaction, to say the least.

  
oh right lmao   
  
r u staying the night?   
  
i have no plans to. Her mom will probably drop me off back @ home    
  
k cool   
  
have fun!   
  
:)   
  


She slides her phone into her pocket, and brings her attention back to the band. 

* * *

Katara waits for Zuko backstage after his last set. He strides towards her, drenched in sweat and wielding his guitar. 

“What did you think?” He asks right away.

Katara gives him a wide grin. “It was amazing! You guys are great!” 

“Thank you.” His reply is so simple, but he seems quite happy with her opinion.

Before Katara has a chance to elaborate, Mai, Ty Lee, and June emerge from behind the curtain. Ty Lee looks even more energized than before she started, which Katara considers quite impressive, because she herself is drained and wasn’t even the one singing and dancing for two and a half hours.

Katara is bombarded with questions by Ty Lee, and she answers them all with enthusiasm, while Zuko helps pack up the set. June and Mai step outside to have a smoke. 

“Do you have any of your own songs?” Katara finds herself asking, intrigued. She'd only heard covers tonight, as Ember Island was a background bar show, and no one was paying to hear their original music. 

“Oh, yes! We’re still working on our first album. I told Zuko we should just release them all as singles, because albums are basically dying, but he wanted to stay old school I guess.” That _does_ sound like Zuko.

“I have to agree with him. I love the idea of an album, having a collection of songs like that… It’s like it tells a story.” Katara says.

“I see the merit behind it, I just like putting stuff out there as soon as I finish it, y’know? Anyway, if you want to listen to them sometime, I think I’ve got some recordings saved. But, like, on my computer.”

“That would be great!” 

Katara’s ear twitches as she hears the backdoor open, and June and Mai come back inside. The smell of tobacco infiltrates Katara’s nose, and the sensation causes bumps to rise on her skin; a boy she hasn’t thought about in weeks comes to mind as June approaches her. Jet’s impression is gone as soon as it appeared, and Katara becomes more concerned with how intimidating June is. 

“Hey, girly. You Pouty’s girlfriend?”

“Wh– _Who_?” Katara splutters, caught completely off guard.

June throws her thumb in Zuko’s direction, a smug grin growing on her face just as a blush blooms on Katara’s.

“N-No, we’re just friends.” Yeah, Zuko’s cute, but she hardly knows him— _really_ knows him.

“Okay, whatever you say.” June is _delighting_ in this exchange, at making Katara squirm. Ty Lee is giggling and even Mai has an upturned lip, but Katara doesn’t feel embarrassed. It’s a comfortable type of teasing.

Her hazing aside, June is actually quite nice. Katara can tell she’s more of a ‘tough love’ kind of gal, but she’s kind nonetheless. (At least mostly.)

Zuko soon joins them, dusting off his pants. 

“There you are.” June says, and reaches over to ruffle his hair. Zuko grumbles in protest, and Katara wonders if their relationship is similar to hers and Sokka’s. 

“Well. Wanna head to my place?” June suggests. 

Katara hadn't planned on doing anything after the show when she initially agreed to attend the performance , but she finds herself enjoying their company more than she expected, so she accepts. Zuko studies her face for a moment, checking to see if she’s alright, and then agrees along with Ty Lee and Mai.

* * *

The four teenagers have piled into June’s rather uncharacteristic hatchback. Mai rides shotgun and shuffles through the radio stations in a fruitless effort to find something that suits her taste. Ty Lee sits between Zuko and Katara, at first loudly sharing her anecdotes with them, and then promptly and abruptly falling asleep halfway through the car ride.

“Does she do this a lot?” Katara asks, to anyone who will answer.

“Do what?” Zuko asks her in return.

“Talk nonstop for fifteen minutes and then start snoring?” 

June lets out a boisterous laugh, and Zuko grins softly like he’s holding back a chuckle. Katara can’t help smiling along with them.

“Yeah, she does.” June answers. “She puts all of her energy into something, uses it all up in a short period of time, and then collapses.”

Then, June takes a sharp turn, and Ty Lee’s head flops over and onto Zuko’s shoulder. Everyone laughs at his expense; the sound sucks up all ensuing conversations, and a comfortable silence follows. Katara looks out the window to stare at the city, covered in the cover of night as June drives through it, and feels a sense of tired peace.

“Oh, I meant to ask.” Katara starts, suddenly remembering her earlier thought. “Did you make those stickers on the instruments? The Ember Island ones?” 

“Oh, no, actually. Zuko did.” 

Katara turns to face the boy in question, so fast she accidentally whips Ty Lee with her hair.

“ _You_ did? They’re so good! I had no idea you were an artist, Zuko!” 

He blushes at her praise and looks away. “I’m not that good… It’s not too hard to design some stickers.”

_There he goes, with his strange dichotomy of confidence and insecurity._

“Just take the compliment!” She scolds him.

So he does.

* * *

As soon as they arrived at the apartment, June left. Katara doesn’t know what for, but it seemed clandestine, so she doesn’t question it. But she suspects it may be related to how June can afford this apartment while in college and seemingly jobless, save the occasional gig. Her bedroom is surprisingly—no, suspiciously?—comfortable and spacious. But what she does to pay for housing is none of Katara’s business. 

Zuko, who is carrying an unconscious Ty Lee around on his back, sets her down on June’s bean bag chair. Mai and Katara take a seat on the couch, and Zuko takes a seat next to Katara. 

They haven’t been chatting for five minutes before Mai produces a joint from her bag and offers it to Katara and Zuko.

Zuko reminds Mai that he’s straight edge. and Katara laughs at that internally, simply because he doesn’t look the type. But when you get to know him, that fact makes perfect sense. Sure, he wears punk clothes, but he doesn’t act punk. He dresses how he wants, and he acts how he wants. Admirable. Honest. 

Katara’s on the fence about accepting Mai’s offer—weed has never gone too well for her. She hasn’t smoked weed since Freshman year, and her experiences were terrible at worst and okay at best. But Katara knows Zuko is expecting her refuse, which is why she decides to take it. Even Mai seems a little surprised, but then she gives her a small, sly grin. 

“Guess I was wrong about you.” Mai says. 

“Guess you were,” Katara responds, light-hearted yet complacent, and takes a slow drag. Her lungs aren’t ready for serious puffs yet; she’s got to work up to it. 

Zuko says his uncle would be upset with him if he smoked. He says it’s not great for his health, that he doesn't need to get high. That he’s at risk—for _what_ , Katara doesn’t know. She doesn't care about his excuses—he can do what he wants. She doesn't need his approval. 

After one more inhale, Katara has a sudden panicking thought realizing she hadn’t brought any perfume. _How am I gonna get rid of this smell?_

Mai takes the joint back. “Not your first time?” 

“No.” Katara says, holding back a cough. Coughing, even though normal, seems embarrassing. It’s the stoner equivalent of showing weakness in the animal kingdom, she supposes. Katara is trying to impress Mai, though that's not what she's calling it in her head. In her head, it’s ‘proving herself’ or maybe, ‘one-upping.’ 

“Of course Zuko found another stoner chick.”

“I’m not a stoner chick.” She huffs. She is about to ask herself why she's strangely offended by the suggestion, but she remembers why. She hates stoners. She hates Jet. 

“Keep hanging out with me and maybe you’ll become one.” Mai passes the joint back. 

“Not in a million years.” The weed is taking effect rather soon, though Katara supposes it could be a placebo effect. She doesn’t care if it is.

Her outrage at the idea isn't lost on Mai, as she’s suddenly stopped trying to control her cadence. 

“Why, you think I’m a burnout or something?” She can't tell if Mai’s actually offended or just intrigued. She’s always too _stoic_ , and Katara is suddenly mad at that. She wishes people could just say what they were thinking. Katara holds her breath, keeping the smoke in like Jet taught her to do. 

Zuko’s being very quiet. 

“I don't think _you_ are.” Katara answers, letting the smoke out. 

“Ah. You knew someone like that, huh?” Mai concludes. Katara passes the joint back, nodding her head. 

Mai studies her face quizzically. “Hmm… Your ex?” She guesses. 

Katara, though slightly inebriated, can feel Zuko twitch next to her. He must be curious. Everything’s feeling a bit fuzzier, and her ability to make inferences has been expunged from her brain.

It's a familiar feeling, in a way, but also as foreign as it’s always been. Every time she's gotten stoned she feels paradoxical—both comforted by the sensation and off put by it. Normally, she hates losing control of her body. It’s one of her biggest fears, after all, to end up like her mother. But when she's the one choosing to lose control, it's not so bad; In some ways, it’s liberating.

“Yeah,” She feels the thoughts begin to spill out of her head and into her mouth. “He sucked. I hate him. I don’t know why ever dated him. Stupid asshole.”

One of Mai’s eyebrows raises in amusement. “Boy, that struck a nerve. Tell us how you really feel, why don't you?”

It's not funny. It really isn't. But she laughs, a little too hard. 

She finds herself recanting stories with Mai, who is much more reciprocal now that she's high. Katara laughs at each and every one, even when they're not funny, even when she’s oversharing. Zuko stays silent and stock-still. But as Mai rolls a second joint and gets out a her flask, the smell of weed starts to become indecipherable from the smell of air, and Katara takes less notice of her surroundings. 

“O-One time,” Katara starts, tears of laughter forming in her eyes, “He took me to his tr-tee house…”

“The guy had a treehouse?” Mai asks, an open mouthed smile, disbelieving but entertained. 

“Yeah, it was, like, his thing. I thought it was _so cool_.”

“You thought a _treehouse_ was cool?”

“It wasn’t a normal tree house!” Katara protested, though she could still appreciate why it would sound funny to an outsider. If she was sober she could see where Mai was coming from and would realize she wasn't articulating herself well. But she certainly wasn’t sober. 

Mai didn't seem to believe her statement, but motioned for her to continue. 

“Yeah, so, Jet was like, ‘I dare you to drink this whole of vodka’, and I was like, ‘I don’t want to’ and he was like, ‘I dare you though’ and I was like, ‘Haha no way’ and he was like, ‘Please’ so I was like, ‘Alright’ and then I downed it all—“ she takes a deep breath, preparing to continue her babbling, “And after I drank it all I was like, barely conscious and he tried to put a move on me but I was like, ‘No way—’”

She’s leaving out the part where the fear in her belly burned so hot it seemed to boil the alcohol from her blood, and that she climbed out of his treehouse so fast she fell and sprained her ankle. 

Oh, no wait, she didn’t forget that last part. 

Mai looks at her, and then to Zuko, confused at how to respond and too stoned to comprehend any of the implications. Especially when those implications are buried behind Katara's raucous laughter. 

“You should’ve seen the look on my face.” What is it about weed that makes her turn her deep seated traumas into quick gags? Whatever it is has a strange sense of humor. 

She can’t remember much after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is halfway done and starts up exactly after this scene 👌  
> also dw im gonna update out of hand soon too
> 
> excerpt from the next chap:
> 
> [“Is that jasmine?” Katara finally pipes up.  
> “Why, yes. Would you like some?” Iroh offers.  
> “I’ve had enough herb for tonight, thank you very much.”]


	2. the devil’s lettuce (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the last chapter. Zuko's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is much shorter than the last one, Idk how consistent the chapter lengths will be sorry! I was originally going to combine this one and the next one but since I've been working so slow I decided to post this sooner. I hope it's not too boring! There's one more installment in this part of the story before I move on to some other scenarios :)

Maybe Zuko should be flattered that Katara trusts him to this extent, but he's not. June came back and kicked them out sometime after the 5th joint, and Katara’s too wasted to even stand. She reeks of weed and alcohol and there's no way he can bring Katara back to her house in her current state. 

If she was Zuko, and had Ozai for a dad...

From what he can recall of Hakoda, he was an honest man and a dedicated father. But Zuko knows better than anyone that you can't always judge a book by its cover; that men can change for the worse. So, no, he won’t bring her back… Just in case. 

Thus, he brings Katara home with him. She can stay the rest of the night and leave at breakfast. Zuko can probably get away with this plan—It’s after 2 in the morning, so surely his uncle will be asleep, right?

He looks over at Katara, who has been mumbling incoherently throughout the whole car ride, only half present in reality. Zuko will never understand why people choose to do this to themselves; losing control of your mind and your body is terrifying. The possibility of harming yourself permanently is just as scary, and he certainly doesn’t want anymore scars or unstable loved ones. 

Zuko worries for Katara. He had thought, up until recently, that she was one of the most responsible teenagers he’d ever met. She  _ did  _ have a good head on her shoulders, but she didn’t seem to always listen to it. There was nothing wrong with smoking some weed, but some of the things Katara had been saying were perturbing, and the desperation driving her to lose control was as well. Zuko could recognize that desperation in himself, but he used different outlets. Katara seemed like she kept everything bottled up, and then poured it all out at once, much like Ty Lee and her energy levels… Much like Zuko, really, though he was working on it with his therapist. 

When they were children, Zuko had thought Katara was pretty, but more so he thought of her as Sokka’s annoying younger sister. Now, he looks at Sokka more like  _ her  _ annoying older brother, and finds Katara incredibly, distractingly gorgeous. She was just as determined then as she was now, he thinks, and wonders what their relationship would be like if he had paid more attention to her way back when. 

Zuko wants to assist her on a deeper level, somehow, but has no idea what she needs help with. So for now he’ll have to tripsit her.

At one point during the car ride, Katara seems to recognize the tune on the radio. But then she begins to sing along, and Zuko realizes she thinks it’s a completely different song. It’s kinda cute, he admits, but It also brings him back to his endless internal monologue of concern. 

A few minutes later, they arrive at his Uncle's house. Zuko helps Katara out of the car, but she's stumbling so badly he has to support her with an arm around her waist. 

“Thanks, sir.” She smiles dazedly at him. 

“Um… You’re welcome, ma’am.” He plays along, still maintaining his seriousness. Katara nods at him like he just said something very philosophical.

Zuko opens the front door with his spare key and flicks the entranceway light on, then directs Katara into the kitchen where he is greeted with the shocking sight of his Uncle brewing a cup of tea. Well, the latter isn't shocking, just the fact he's up at 2:00 am. Don’t old people need to get 9 hours of sleep or something?

His Uncle is even more shocked than Zuko when he sees Katara. He blinks a few times, processing the scene. 

“Um…” 

“W-Why are you awake at this hour, Uncle?” Zuko demands, embarrassed rather than hostile. 

As Iroh opens his mouth to respond, his nose wiggles in disgust and he gets distracted by the overwhelming smell of pot emanating off Katara and undoubtedly also Zuko. Secondhand smoke’s a bitch, afterall. 

“I was waiting for you to get home… I know you’re…” Iroh glances at Katara, who is scratching the front of her dress repeatedly in a haphazard pattern, “...Responsible. I just can’t sleep soundly knowing you’re out late sometimes. So I wait up for you.” Zuko feels his heart warm at his words, and wonders how he got so lucky after everything that happened before being transferred into Uncle’s custody.

“But, ah, Nephew, I believe the questions I have at the moment are a bit more… pertinent than yours.”

“R-Right.” Zuko sighs and swipes a hand through his bangs. He’s too exhausted and mortified for this conversation, but he’ll have it.

“I certainly hope you didn’t drive under the influence—“ Iroh starts, worry evident in his tone. 

“No! I didn’t even do anything, I swear. Katara’s the only one who…”

“Katara? As in Sokka's sister?” Iroh asks scrutinizIngly, and examines the girl in question, who seems completely unconcerned.

“Yes, well, normally she isn’t like  _ this _ . Really. She just went a bit… overboard.” 

“I can smell that,” Iroh comments. 

“Just… I didn’t want to bring her back to her house like this, so I was gonna let her sleep here.”

Iroh smiles at him, his eyes crinkling, and studies Zuko for a few moments. “You are indeed a mature and compassionate young man, Nephew.” 

Zuko blinks and looks at his Uncle like he’s insane. Shouldn’t he be stating the opposite?

“Uh. I don’t know how you can say that, but thanks.” Zuko responds, his eyebrow raised.

Uncle shakes his head and goes to pour himself a cup of tea. 

“Is that jasmine?” Katara finally pipes up. She is leaning even more into Zuko’s body, much to his discomfort. He shifts his arm again to pull her back up.

“Why, yes. Would you like some?” Iroh offers. 

“I’ve had enough herb for tonight, thank you very much.”

Zuko winces and his Uncle does something he hadn’t expected him to do: He laughs. A loud, hearty laugh, and Katara joins in with him. Zuko can only stand there, supporting Katara’s gait, with his mouth open. 

“Okay, that’s it.” Zuko grumbles, interrupting their laughter to angle himself towards the kitchen door and drag Katara upstairs. Too many embarrassing things had transpired today, and he was not going to let this fiasco continue any longer; he just wanted to  _ sleep _ , for fuck’s sake. His fingertips were red and irritated from the performance, and his legs felt like they’d give out at any moment. That was not to mention his steadily growing headache. 

Iroh waves after them as they ascend up the staircase, and Zuko suddenly feels an urge to hide in his bathroom forever. 

Once inside his bedroom, he guides Katara to his bed and helps her get situated. She climbs under the covers compliantly, and he rolls his blanket over her body. Her eyes seem lidded, not only from the weed but from exhaustion, and Zuko is grateful for it. He doesn’t know if he could sing her a lullaby and keep his dignity in tact afterwards. 

Katara closes her eyes, mumbles a bit more, and finally dozes off. Zuko sighs, just as tired as she is, and uses the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his forehead. He grabs the spare blanket from under his bed and heads back down the stairs. 

Zuko attempts to avoid his uncle and head straight for the living room couch, but it seems fate has other plans.

Iroh is waiting for him in the living room with his cup of tea, an amused smile plastered on his face. 

“I’m glad  _ someone  _ finds this funny.” Zuko scowls.

Iroh shoots Zuko a sympathetic glance, but it’s still obvious he is trying (and failing) at repressing a grin.

“Forgive me, nephew. I tend to find humor in these situations.” 

Zuko grumbles and plops down onto the couch, wrapping the blanket around his body like a burrito.

“ _ Goodnight _ , Uncle.” He doesn’t need to be facing Iroh to know he’s still holding back laughter. Zuko hears porcelain clink as Iroh gathers his empty tea cup and plate. 

“Goodnight, nephew.” 

Zuko knows that despite his Uncle’s current state, he will be initiating a more serious conversation about tonight’s events with him soon.


	3. the devil's lettuce (iii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara wakes up. tw: allusion to the past rape of a mother figure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup y'all! i hope ur all healthy and safe! pls enjoy. this is the last part of the first segment of the story but there's a lot more to come :)

When Katara wakes up, the first thing she notices is the foreign room encapsulating her. It smells heavily like Axe body spray. The decor is traditionally masculine, full of rock band posters, but still rather minimal. There are a few stylistic guitars hanging on the wall. Those observations, if nothing else, are the biggest red flags.

She’s imagined a scenario similar to this a million times before; the different ways she could be taken advantage of, and the aftermath of such a disaster. Not necessarily in the brutal and violent manner that befell her mother, but a violation nonetheless. One that sprung from persuasion or roofies or alcohol, one that she had been warned about all her life, regardless of her personal history.

Her eyes begin to sting obnoxiously fast. A panic sweeps through her, jumpstarting her heart into action and sending chills down her neck, so cold they feel like liquid nitrogen. Katara thinks she might cry right then and there, despite having no evidence to back up her initial assumption, overloaded on emotions that are attacking her too quickly to process. The only thing she can think about is the sound of her mother struggling and sobbing.

The blanket on her chest feels too heavy. The ceiling feels too close. Katara scrambles to her knees with a harsh breath, pushing the blanket onto the floor and immediately running her hands down her body. All of her clothes are still on, and it’s only with the ensuing wave of relief that she even _tries_ to remember where she is or what she’d done to get here.

Images of the previous night surface in her mind’s eye; a clear picture of Zuko’s performance, then a far more hazy one, accompanied by sensory memories of a rough throat and distinct stench. That stench, she slowly realizes, is not just a sensory memory. Katara clutches the front of her shirt and brings it to her nose. She performs the same test with her breath and her hair and—

Yeah, that confirms it. She stinks of weed.

Katara shakes her head, trying to physically brush the thought aside for the moment, and concentrates on trying to remember the rest of the night, but nothing comes to mind. All she finds is a big, disappointing blank.

_You’re probably fine, Katara, why would they leave you in their own room with your clothes? That doesn’t make sense, right?_

She swings her legs over the side of the bed and bends over to search for her bag. It’s snuggled up against one of the bed’s wooden legs, looking far more comfortable than she is. Katara reaches for it and swings it into her lap, then sticks her hand into the main pocket to fish for her phone. It’s at a low battery life but is still functioning, much to her repose.

The clock says 10:46, which seems both too early and too late. Katara’s family would’ve expected her to check in at this point, but they wouldn’t be worried if she hadn’t. Surprisingly, she only has a few notifications: a few texts from the “Gaang” group chat as her friends so lovingly named it, and one missed call from Sokka. Her finger hovers over the message, wondering if she should call him back.

Just then, a soft knock comes from the bedroom door which startles her into almost dropping her phone, but she catches it at the last second. Her erratic heartbeat returns.

“Katara?” Comes a muffled voice through the mahogany. She instantly recognizes it as Zuko’s.

_Right, that makes sense. He took me home and let me sleep in his bed because I was so wasted. That’s what happened. Stop being paranoid._

“Hello?” Katara responds, repeating the line of logic in the background of her mind. She hates the way her voice wavers like she’s a scared child—but then again, maybe she is.

“Oh, um, hi. Can I come in?” Zuko asks.

“Y-Yeah, of course.”

The door opens and Zuko peeks his head in, blinking at Katara like a curious bird. His gaze darts around the room as if he’s assessing what’s changed in the past few hours, all spent unconscious, before finally centering back on Katara. He enters and closes the door behind him.

Zuko’s hair is shining with dampness, which she assumes is from a recent shower. He’s also wearing gray sweatpants and a graphic T-shirt. She can’t recognize what piece of media the shirt is referencing, but in typical Zuko fashion, it looks alternative.

“Um, so. Good morning. Did you sleep well?” There is still an underlying amount of awkwardness, but it’s only natural, Katara supposes.

Katara can’t hide her amused smile at the absurdity of the situation, which is no doubt the reason for Zuko’s identical expression. If someone had told Katara only a week beforehand that she would be hanging out with Zuko— _Zuko—_ under these circumstances, she would be in disbelief.

“Yeah, I slept like a baby. A really stoned baby.”

He laughs at that, and the cauldron of feelings in her stomach is suddenly stirring with a new ingredient.

“How did you sleep?” She asks in turn.

“Good; I slept on the couch.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” She does feel bad about inconveniencing him, but happy that her assumption has been solidified.

“No, it’s okay, the couch is comfortable.”

“I’m glad, then—That you had a nice rest… Not about the… I mean, I’m not judging, just… Well, are you good?”

“What? Yes, of course. What makes you think I’m not?” She hates that her heart is still beating a little too fast, a physical reminder that she’s lying.

He pauses, perhaps examining her appearance and her defensive tone, maybe calculating the chances of Katara blowing up at him.

“Well, you seem a little…” He trails off, as if waiting for her to provide an adjective for him, but she doesn’t. She just blinks. He clears his throat and continues.

“And last night, you were acting… Um, you were upset.” 

“Oh.”

 _Why didn’t he just say so? Why was talking to Zuko so unbelievably difficult right now?_

“In what way?” She asks. 

“It was private stuff—You don’t want me to know about it. I promise I won’t say anything about it, of course, not that I would say anything about it if you’d told me sober, but—”

“Just tell me what I said, Zuko!” Katara doesn’t quite snap at him, but her volume certainly increases, and she knows she’s speaking in the stern voice that makes Sokka squirm. Zuko scratches the back of his head awkwardly. That seems to be a habit of his.

“...You were talking about your ex, and then about your, um, mom.”

“Oh.”

Zuko’s nails start scratching at his hair faster, and he glances away. “Yeah.”

Katara doesn’t know what to say—if she should prod further, find out what she said, or if she should abscond out the front door and evade Zuko for the rest of her life. Before she has a chance to choose, Zuko speaks for her.

“I lost my mother too… So, I know a bit about what you’re feeling. If you ever, y’know, wanna talk about it.” Katara is caught off-guard at the statement; her eyes widen against her will, and her head flings upwards to meet Zuko’s eyes, only to find that he is still timidly avoiding eye contact.

With a painful empathy, she recognizes herself in the practiced way he says ‘I lost my mother’, and the disconsolate way he bites his lip. Katara can barely recall his mother, but she remembers that Ursa was as kind as she was beautiful.

“I’m sorry about that,” Katara says earnestly, softer and slower than how she delivered her previous sentence. Zuko lets out a short but weary sigh. He shares eye contact with her once more.

“It’s alright. I didn’t mean to make it about me. I just meant that you’re not… alone.”

Katara smiles, small yet sincere.

“No, that’s—Thank you.”

He only nods in response.

“So, this is your room?” Katara inquires, attempting to both distract herself from painful memories and prevent another cumbersome silence.

“Oh. Yeah.” Zuko looks around and studies his room. “I have a lot of band stuff.”

“I noticed,” Katara clicks her tongue, and raises to her feet. She points to a picture of a deserted island, composed of blues and purples and dull oranges. Written in brighter colors, in a smooth font, is _Ember Island_.

“That’s a poster for your band, right? I remember you saying that you designed all the stickers. Did you make that too?” She moves closer to drink in the smaller details of the art.

“Yeah,” Zuko answers again, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He pauses as if he’s thinking about how to elaborate. “I painted it and edited it in a software, then printed it out.”

“It’s beautiful, Zuko.” She says, and she means it.

“I—”

“Just take the compliment.” Katara interrupts, looking at him over her shoulder with a reassuring smile. He grins back at her.

“Do you have a shirt? Like, merchandise?” She continues.

“Oh. Well, I screen printed one, but I haven’t set up any official merch.”

Katara has no clue what that means, but she’ll take what she can get.

“Is it for sale?”

Zuko seems genuinely surprised that she’s so interested in his artwork.

“Well, I’ve been wearing it for a while, so…”

“Oh, bummer. Well, if you ever have more, call me so I can buy one from you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Zuko.” Katara interrupts, once again, with even more determination and a raised eyebrow.

Zuko scoffs good naturedly and shakes his head.

“…I can go get it if you want to see it.” He asks, with subjugate hopefulness.

“Oh, please do.”

He strides across the room to his dresser and opens the top drawer. While Zuko shifts through his clothes, Katara notices a photo propped up on the dresser, next to a few bottles of hair gel and axe body spray. It’s a picture of his mother, she realizes, who looks nearly identical to her memories. Next to the photo of Ursa is the photo of a girl who looks incredibly similar to Zuko, with sharp eyes and dark hair and strong cheekbones.

Katara had almost completely forgotten he had a younger sister. Since Zuko and Sokka often excluded her, Katara had tried to recruit Azula, but the girl had never reciprocated, and so Katara gave up rather quickly. The few times they had a prolonged interaction ended in a feeling of discomfort. While searching through her brain for more facts about Azula, a picture of Zuko’s father surfaces. Katara has to suppress a grimace at that; Ozai had always been off putting, though she rarely saw him.

Her memories weren’t what concerned Katara at the moment, though. Who has a picture of their sister next to a photo of their dead mom?

A few seconds pass with Katara consumed in her thoughts, before Zuko pulls a white shirt out, and turns around to showcase it. This shirt is a lot more simple than the other design and is in black and white, but Katara still finds it pleasing to the eye. She walks over to Zuko, trying to ignore how close they are now, and runs her hands over the sides of the shirt so she can stretch it out.

“That’s really cool.”

“Thanks.” Bashedly, he accepts her compliment.

Her mouth opens, ready to expand on why she likes it (because she knows that always makes it more sincere), when she hears him sniff.

How could she forget how bad she stinks? “Oh. Right. Can I… borrow this?”

With a lot of understanding, and maybe some pity, Zuko nods. He hands her the shirt.

“That’s probably for the best.”

“Yeah… Probably is.” Katara holds the fabric in her hands, admiring it a little more, before remembering something she knows will make him blush.

“Are you _sure_ I’m not your groupie?”

Zuko’s cheeks turn red just like she knew they would and she laughs, and he grumbles. He’s flustered, but not irritated.

 _I think I’m starting to understand him a bit more_ , Katara thinks, with some pride.

“I’m going to go and let you change. After you’re done, breakfast should be ready downstairs, if you want it.”

“Sounds great.”

* * *

Katara descends down the staircase slowly, anxious to fill her empty stomach but wary of a teenage boy’s cooking skills. As she approaches the first floor, she hears a faint _sizzle_ , and the delicious smell of fresh pancakes invades her nose. If it smells this good, it can’t be too bad, she figures.

Once the kitchen is in view, she comes to find that Zuko is not the one preparing breakfast. A heavyset, older man with gray hair is at the griddle instead. He turns his head when Katara enters the doorway and smiles.

“You must be Ms. Katara. Please, have a seat—breakfast should be ready soon. You are okay with pancakes, yes?”

Katara blinks. This man is not recognizable at all.

“Oh, yes, pancakes are lovely. Thank you.” She takes a seat at the counter.

“Perfect! I don’t know why I asked—who doesn’t like pancakes? Well, people who are allergic, I suppose.” The man muses to himself. He flips a pancake.

“Smells delicious.” Katara comments. She peers around her in all directions, but doesn’t see Zuko.

“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells, hm?”

“Um, yeah.” She agrees, only absent-mindedly involved in the conversation. Then, there’s the sound of feet coming down the hall, and Zuko enters through the same doorway Katara used. She lets out a tiny sigh, grateful for his presence, because she had no clue how to banter with this old dude.

“Hi,” Zuko greets, and finds a chair next to Katara. She waves in response.

“Zuko, have you forgotten your manners? Offer our guest something to drink!” Says the older man. His voice does match the tone of a scolding parent whatsoever.

Zuko looks at her pointedly, asking her with a gesture instead of a sentence.

“Water, please. Thank you.”

“You got it.” Zuko gets up to grab a glass. “I see you’ve met my Uncle Iroh?”

“Oh, so that’s who he is.” Katara says without thinking.

“You don’t remember me?” Iroh asks, without any surprise.

“Sorry, I can’t recall meeting you, but I was quite young so…”

“I meant last night.”

Last night? When did she…?

 _Oh_.

“Oh my God,” Katara exclaims. She covers her burning cheeks with her hands and prays that Zuko brings her that water soon. “I am _so_ , _so_ sorry, sir. I promise I do not usually behave like that! That was a bad first impression of me, I—”

Iroh and Zuko laugh in sync. The only thing stopping Katara from running into the street at that instant is the glass of water Zuko sets down in front of her.

“I don’t think you are a bad influence on Zuko. He is responsible for his own actions. If anything, I am worried for _you_.”

“For me?” Katara repeats.

“I won’t tell you how to live your life, my dear. Just make sure you are careful and mindful of your health.”

This is somehow more embarrassing than if Iroh was mad at her.

“You don’t have to worry about me… I-I don’t usually act like that. But thank you.” She muffles the end into her water glass.

“…Would you like some tea?” Zuko smirks, barely restraining laughter. Katara slaps his shoulder playfully.

“Oh, shut up!”


	4. looking back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chap is mostly introspection & is pretty short. also i hope the timeline isn't confusing--the end scene is set at the beginning of the school year, before the last 3 chapters

Zuko was a rowdy child. He was unruly, hyperactive, and needed constant stimulation. Despite these traits being common among boys his age, Ozai still proved to be incapable of handling them in his son and disliked how hard he was to control, and became decidedly more careful when Azula came around. She was put on a much tighter leash at a much younger age than Zuko, and barely stood a chance once she’d been placed in Ozai’s suffocating grip. At the time, Zuko had been jealous of her ability to please their father, but looking back on it he realizes their father’s attention was more of a blessing than a curse. Attention could get you in trouble. If you were Zuko, attention could get your face shoved into a fireplace; if you were Azula, attention could get you thrown in an asylum.

Zuko first gravitated towards Sokka not for his personality, but for his father’s. He was also a rowdy child, but his father did not reprimand him for his energy. Hakoda did not yell at Sokka for his mistakes, instead teaching him how to do better. He praised Sokka for his successes and sympathized with his failures; he showed affection and gave guidance. He did everything that Ozai did not do, but Zuko wished he would. When Zuko played at Sokka’s house—which was often the location they played at, because Ozai did not enthusiastically approve of their friendship—he liked to pretend that Hakoda was his father. Though he did not express that sentiment, he accidentally called him ‘Dad’ a few times, which didn’t go unnoticed by Sokka. For weeks, he was relentlessly teased about it.

“Boys only, Katara!” Sokka used to say, whenever Katara asked to join them.

“That’s no fair! You’re just afraid I’ll win.” Katara would insist back, as confident as ever.

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

(Their sibling dynamic was not foreign to Zuko. He and Azula had something similar, once upon a time, but any recollection of those interactions became nothing more than fuzzy, fleeting memories.)

Zuko, of course, would side with Sokka. Having Azula as a sister, he did understand that there was a possibility Katara could beat them and thereby embarrass them, but he refused to admit that out loud. Plus, whenever Katara was around, he noticed how pretty she looked, and that confused him. Regrettably, he was rather mean to her on more than one occasion because of this.

His friendship with Sokka—though memorable—was cut short by Ozai, because how else would it end? Though not his initial intention, when Ozai burned Zuko’s eye and then abruptly and covertly relocated his family, all contact between Sokka and Zuko was severed. It was not until years later, when Ozai was arrested and Iroh adopted Zuko, that Zuko would return to his hometown, though thankfully not to the same house. Azula was not as lucky in this regard; while also being adopted by Iroh, her mental health quickly deteriorated.

Now that he’s in his uncle’s custody, Zuko tries to visit Azula as often as he can manage, but that isn’t often. Both because of schedule conflicts, and for his emotional wellbeing. Confronting Azula while she’s furious would be preferable to listening to her when she’s out of her mind. It does Zuko no good, and doesn’t seem to do Azula any, either.

When Sokka first saw Zuko at the beginning of the year, he didn’t recognize him. The scar was mostly to blame for this, but so was age, and the maturity that comes with it. But despite Zuko’s apparent maturity that he had accumulated over the years seperated, he was not showing any of it in their first interaction. He would have preferred (at least, he said so) to not reunite with Sokka, but roll call in first period English gave him away.

After class, Sokka tried to talk to him.

“Zuko?” He asked hesitantly.

Zuko faltered upon hearing his name, but tried to brush it off when he heard who said it, and kept walking.

“Zuko!” Sokka said again, louder and with more conviction. Zuko sped up his pace in a futile attempt to outrun his childhood friend, for reasons he did not know. Sokka caught up to him and clasped his hand on Zuko’s shoulder to turn him around.

The way Sokka’s gaze flickered to his scar was inevitable and noticeable, but to Sokka’s credit, he didn’t mention it. He seemed genuinely happy to just see Zuko. For the same innominate reasons for his escape, that made Zuko upset.

“What?” He snapped, slapping Sokka’s hand away. Sokka’s smile fell and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. His comical expressions reminded Zuko of his elementary personality.

“Uh, it’s me, Sokka? Do you not remember?”

Zuko gave him one last look, then turned on his heels and headed for the bathroom, ignoring the hurt in Sokka’s voice and the guilt in his own gut. He regretted being mean, and after one routine Iroh-sponsored therapy appointment, he had his own subconscious reasoning explained to him. Being psychoanalyzed was always annoying, but his therapist was right about his abandonment issues and tendency to self-isolate and terrible coping mechanisms and everything else that made Zuko feel like shit. But he wasn’t prepared to go apologize any time soon.

It wasn’t until Katara confronted him the following week that Zuko talked to Sokka again. She’d approached—or, rather, angrily stomped towards—his solitary lunch table and unloaded her distaste on him without an introduction.

“Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but my brother doesn’t deserve that treatment. He’s been bummed out about it ever since because you’re important to him for  _ some reason _ , Tui knows why. Go tell him you’re sorry.”

Zuko was so taken aback by her audacity that it took him several moments to respond.

“I’ll apologize if I want to.” He replied, without any malice.

Katara scanned him over with scrutiny, squinting like an unimpressed judge at a toddler beauty pageant, and nodded ever so slightly. She stood out to him even more now than she did when they were kids.

“Well, I’ll see you soon then.”

Zuko didn’t know what she meant at the time; but the next day, after showing up at their lunch table and apologizing to Sokka while Katara looked at him with silent approval, he realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope yall enjoyed! next chap will have more meat to it lol😙 stay safe everyone!


	5. back to school

The cafeteria is bustling like always, but right now it sounds muffled to Katara, as if she is a fish in an aquarium and the other students are just visitors passing by the glass. She tries to concentrate solely on the task in front of her, but cannot stop her feet tapping into the vinyl floor as she scribbles into her notebook with a fierce determination. She doesn’t even notice Sokka staring at her curiously, or the story he is attempting to tell.

“Mr. Piandao declined my extension, of course, but I— Katara?”

“Yes?” She answers on instinct, without paying any real attention.

“I can barely hear myself speak over the sound of you writing.” He says; though it is more an excuse to bother her than it is an actual complaint. “What did that paper do to you? You might want to lay off or you’ll break the lead.”

Katara lets out a non committal hum of agreement.

“Are you even listening?”

She lets out another.

“Babe, this is clearly a lost cause. Just go back to your story.” Suki says. Katara tries not to cringe at the nickname—Suki and Sokka had started dating recently, and the terms of endearment they used for each other were almost as bad as the frequent PDA she had to witness.

Sokka gives Katara one last look, before taking Suki’s advice. “Right, so—”

“Hi, guys!” A high-pitched voice interrupts. Before Sokka knows it, Aang is squeezed up next to him.

“Do you people hate me?” Sokka grumbles, and Suki brings her fist to her mouth to hide her smile. 

“No, how could you say such a thing? We love you!” Aang protests, already unpacking his lunch. Sokka unscrews the cap from his gatorade and brings it up to his lips.

“If you’re here then where’s T—” The gatorade in Sokka’s mouth comes spilling out as a hand slaps his back with enough force to knock him flat on his ass, if he weren’t already sitting.

“‘Sup, Snoozles!”

The front of the table and Sokka’s lap are drenched with blue liquid now, and Katara’s focus is ruined by the cartoonishly livid expression her brother is wearing. Luckily, Aang is already fetching napkins to quell his anger.

“CAN I GET A SINGLE SENTENCE OUT?” Sokka barks, before starting to cough. Suki rubs his shoulder reassuringly as he recovers from Toph’s terrorism.

“Toph and Aang are freshmen. They’ll grow out of it eventually.” Suki whispers to him.

“‘Eventually’ isn’t soon enough.” Sokka sighs, his voice hoarse. Aang hands him the napkins and Sokka begins wiping off the table. For all of his apparent grumpiness, Katara knew that Sokka secretly enjoyed Aang and Toph’s company. In fact, he was usually just as silly as they were, but he enjoyed adopting a “frustrated upperclassman” persona” sometimes.

There are a few seconds of glorious silence, accompanied only by Katara’s frantic writing, before Toph starts speaking.

“Jesus, Sugar Queen, what are you _writing_? I can hear it from over here!”

“Bio homework. Due next period.” Is all Katara offers, before biting half of her pizza off.

“Huh. Usually, you’re more on top of that stuff.” Aang comments.

“Nobody’s perfect.” Katara says without looking up.

Aang blushes. “Well, you are pretty clos—”

“Plus, I was at Toph’s house over the weekend.” Katara adds; both to remind Toph of her cover story, and to stop Aang from finishing his sentence. She played dumb, but she knew Aang’s had feelings for her. The only way she knew how to deal with them was to prevent situations where he could express those feelings. Her plan is bound to fail, but she planned to put off the inevitable as long as she could. 

At first, Toph has a look of confusion on her face, like she is about to challenge her statement, before it morphs into sudden recollection.

“Oh, right! Yeah, we stayed up a long time.” Toph affirms. Trying to cover for Katara is a kind effort, but the abrupt change in her demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed by Suki or Sokka.

“Well, that’s typically what you do at a sleepover.” Sokka says, but doesn’t push any further. “Now, where was I?”

* * *

Biology class goes smoothly. It’s the afterwards that ends up being trouble.

“Ms. Kuruk? Can I speak with you after class, please?” Pakku asks her as she loads up her backpack.

He is waiting at his desk, with the usual mundane look on his face. It was always a little strange to hear him call her Ms. Kuruk at school, considering he was her step-grandfather, but she’d have to get used to it.

“What’s wrong, Pakku?” She asks once she arrives in front of him, a little nervous. That line was usually never good.

“Nothing. And I told you not to call me Pakku at school.” He admonishes quickly, before moving onto his point. “You’re a very smart girl, and though it is only the beginning of the year, you have some of the best grades in the class. I wanted to ask you if you would be interested in a tutoring opportunity; There is a student who could use some help, and the administration has agreed that having another student tutor them would be the best approach.” 

Oh. She stood there, not saying anything, her brows crunched up in thought. At least she wasn’t being reprimanded. Due to her lack of a response, Pakku continues on.

“You can decline, of course. You wouldn’t be getting paid for the tutoring, at least not by the school. You can work that out with this individual’s parents, if you want compensation. If not, this will count for volunteer hours. Either way, it is good for experience.” 

Though she had school, swim meets, and her necessary free time, Katara also knew lots of places to volunteer, especially in her neighborhood. She wasn’t in a big need for volunteer hours... Money would be nice though. Of course, if the student _really_ needed it she would do it pro bono, but…

“Who’s the student?” She asks.

Pakku lowers his voice. “Zuko Shibata.”

Katara can’t stop the surprise from dashing across her face. If she tried guessing who she would be tutoring, Zuko wouldn’t make the top 100. But that doesn’t mean she would reject Pakku’s proposal. She wants to know more about Zuko, and based on what she's seen so far, befriend him. Besides, she really does want to help.

“Alright. Sure.” She answers. Her hand is suddenly itchy.

Pakku sighs.

“This is when I give you an unprofessional warning, Ms. Kuruk.” He said, his voice practically at a whisper. 

“You’re my granddaughter, and I know you are discreet and _responsible_ ,” he punctuated the last part like a reminder, “so I will let you know, he has a record of misbehavior at his previous schools.” 

“Well, that’s not too weird, is it? All teenage boys get into a little trouble.” Katara reasons—with Pakku or herself, she doesn’t know.

“It was more serious than ‘a little trouble.’ But that’s all I can say on the matter. I trust you to make a decision that is in your best interest.” 

Katara couldn’t imagine what Pakku meant by that. Was it about it his scar? Or why he moved back? Nonetheless, it didn’t deter her. 

“I can handle it.” 

Pakku nods. “I’m sure you can. You’re a capable and smart young woman. I’ll email you the details later. Now go get ready for your next class, Ms. Kuruk.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you at dinner.” 

Pakku scowls; he wants to maintain an air of professionalism at school, and he knows Katara enjoys teasing him about it.

Funnily enough, her next class is Algebra 2—the only class she had with Zuko. Katara a year ahead in math, so she got placed in his junior class. She'd been looking forward to the class for this reason, even before the tutoring assignment. She was anticipating seeing Zuko again, but she doesn’t know what their interaction will entail. Will it be awkward? Weird? For some reason, she doesn’t think so. 

She peruses the room for Zuko and notices him in his seat, writing in his notebook. Katara sets her supplies down at her desk, and walks over to Zuko’s. She only has a few minutes before class starts, but it’s more than she would get normally, since Mr. Jeong Jeong is chronically late.

Sensing her in front of him, he looks up. Her eyes glimpse down at his notebook, and she notices that he’s not writing at all—he’s drawing. There’s desks, chairs, and pencils on the page, but what catches Katara’s eye is the girl she assumes is Mai. Her face is angular, more angular than Mai’s face really is, but it somehow is more fitting than if he had drawn her completely realistically. It captures her staidness but also her harsh beauty. 

“That’s Mai, right?” Katara asks, forgetting an introduction. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s Mai.” Zuko answers, finding her comment a little unexpected. Katara smiles. A few more students trickle into the classroom. 

“That’s really good.”

“Thanks.” Zuko smiles back, apparently having learned how to take a compliment better since last time. He closes the notebook. “You’re giving me deja vu, though.” 

Katara blushes and coughs into her first, though she isn’t particularly embarrassed by his comment. Her smile doesn’t leave, and Zuko’s playful smile doesn’t back down, either. 

That’s when Mr. Jeong Jeong barges through the entrance door. Katara gives Zuko a small wave and retreats back to her desk.

She’s a little distracted throughout class, but manages to keep herself afloat long enough to take sufficient notes. Right as the bell rings, though, she stops everything to stroll over to Zuko’s seat. She isn’t quite sure how to broach the topic, and ends up taking a Sokka approach.

“So, uh, guess who your new tutor is!” Is all she says. Though, to her credit, it is accompanied by some lame jazz hands.

His good eye widens a little. “No way.”

“No way, as in bad, or…?”

“No, not bad! Just, funny how that works out, I guess. So, you’re okay with being my tutor?”

“Of course, I signed up for it, afterall. Why would you ask?”

“I can’t really pay you. Or, rather, my Uncle can’t.”

“I never said I was asking for anything in return, did I?”

He pauses, then smirks. “No, I suppose you didn’t.” 

“Great! Since you agree, can I have your number then?” Katara asks, and shows off her phone for proof.

“I can’t believe I didn’t give it to you already. I must’ve forgotten to ask.” He says, before producing his phone from his backpack, and reading it number off to her. 

_Did he mean to ask earlier?_

“So, um, should we set up a time to…?” Katara starts. “ I would offer to stay after school or meet up somewhere but Sokka’s driving me, and I have to get home to help prepare my grandmother’s birthday dinner.”

“Yeah, of course. You can just text me later, if that’s alright….”

“Yep! Sounds good.”

Zuko clicks his tongue, like he’s planning on saying something, but struggles before speaking.

“What’re you making? For your grandmother’s dinner, that is?”

She feels warm knowing he’s asking such a simple question about her life.

“Smoked salmon. It’s Gran-Gran’s favorite. She’s always taking care of me and Sokka, so I try to return the favor when I can.”

“That’s very kind.”

“It’s the least I can do. I mean, she has to put up _living_ with us, so...”

Zuko snorted. “I feel the same way about my Uncle.” 

“Does he have to put up with you bringing strange girls home often?” 

Right after saying it, she blushes at the implications, and so does he. That isn’t what she meant at _all_.

“N-No way!” He stammers. “Besides, he loves you!”

She rolls her eyes. “I doubt that.”

“Seriously.”

“Hmm… Well, I have to go now, but talk to you later?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

She bites her lip to hold back her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not too fond of this chapter but i need to get it out of the way so we can get to the interesting stuff \\(￣︶￣*\\))


End file.
